


family

by determination



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, millie is mentioned, slight christopher/conrad if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: Family is a complicated thing, and Conrad could use a little help processing his feelings about it.
Relationships: Christopher Chant & Conrad Tesdinic
Kudos: 4





	family

**Author's Note:**

> i cranked this out last night after i reread the first couple chapters of conrad's fate and got really mad about how awful conrad's family situation was. this poor kid with his shitty mom and his even shittier uncle(s)... and anthea is good and all but i still can't really forgive her for looking at a, what, 10? year old kid and going "he can take care of himself now" and then just dipping without giving him any advice or information about like how to recognize he was being abused and exploited. (obviously she deserved to live her own life but...man, from the standpoint of caring a lot about my siblings, i cannot imagine abandoning any of them in that kind of shitty situation without trying to help in some way)  
> i just want conrad to be happy and i like to think christopher (and millie of course) make him happy :(  
> please no criticism or critiques. i hope you enjoy!

Conrad sat on his bed, chest tight, thoughts racing, and wondered what he could do about it. He didn’t really understand how he was feeling, only that it sort of hurt if he tried to think about it too hard. He felt unwell, like when you’re recovering from a cold and the symptoms got a little worse before they got better, except he knew he wasn’t sick. 

He wanted to talk to someone. There was only one person who came to mind, and he didn’t really seem like a very good option all things considered. But Millie, who Conrad would have wanted to talk to, was away at school. So, with a resigned sigh, Conrad tugged on a sweater over his pyjamas and climbed out of bed. 

As he stepped out of his room, he realized with dismay that he couldn’t remember where Christopher’s room was. Was it somewhere further up the flight of stairs? Or down below? Conrad had only been in Christopher’s room a number of times, and he’d never bothered to learn its location. Now he rather wished he had. He bit his lip, glanced up then down the stairs, then made a decision and carefully descended. Maybe he could find one of the castle staff and ask where the room was. If not, he’d likely have to return to his room in defeat.

To his relief, he found one of the maids on her way up with a pot of tea. If memory served, her name was Erica, and she and Christopher often cracked jokes when she brought breakfast. Perhaps she could help him.

“E-excuse me,” Conrad mumbled. She stopped when she heard his voice and looked down at him, a smile spreading across her face.

“Ah, Master Conrad,” she said warmly. He must have looked particularly lost and uncertain because she had the air of wanting to reach out and pat his head, had her hands not been otherwise occupied. “What are you doing awake at this hour? Did you need something?”

Conrad hesitated. He hoped the request wasn’t too odd. “Can you tell me where Christopher’s room is?”

Erica’s eyes lit up. “But of course!” She gestured up the stairs with her tea tray and said, “He’s up at the top. You can’t miss it.” That was not nearly as helpful as Conrad had hoped, but he didn’t have the confidence to ask further. She seemed to sense this, and elaborated with a giggle, “At the end of the corridor. It’s not too difficult to find, I promise. Would you like me to walk you there?”

At that, Conrad’s cheeks flushed. He certainly wasn’t so helpless as to need an escort, especially not when she had already been on her way somewhere. “I-it’s fine!” he gasped out, feeling suddenly very foolish. Even more so when Erica giggled and seemed again to resist the urge to reach out and pat his head. 

“Suit yourself. Goodnight,” she said, and went past him up the stairs. Conrad stood and stared after her until she was well out of view. Then, sluggishly, he trekked back up the stairs to the top. 

As she’d described, there was indeed a corridor past a line of doors. There were more doors down the corridor, and at the end- Conrad paused, his face warm again. He understood what she’d meant about not missing it. Christopher had left one of his ties hanging on the doorknob, which reminded Conrad strongly of their time at Stallery. Had Christopher done that on purpose? Had he expected Conrad to come find him at some point? He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or feel ashamed. 

All the same, he stepped cautiously up to the door and gave an experimental knock. Two seconds later, he heard Christopher’s voice clearly call, “Come in!” The comfort that washed over him at hearing that voice was practically criminal. More ashamed than ever, Conrad turned the doorknob and let himself in. He found Christopher sitting in bed with an open book and a pen in one hand, with which he appeared to have been marking up the book. When he saw Conrad, his face lit up. “Grant! How good of you to join me.” He instantly tossed his book and pen aside - they landed neatly on a shelf by the wall - and patted the bed. “Come, come, have a seat.”

Yes, it did seem that Christopher had been expecting Conrad. Conrad wasn’t sure for how long; had he put the tie on when Conrad first came, or was it more recent because he’d picked up on Conrad’s inner turmoil? Maybe it didn’t matter. He really was comforted by the sound of Christopher’s voice, even when he had that stupid superior lilt to it, and he looked so normal sitting there in his pyjamas that Conrad couldn’t help standing by the door and letting the sight soothe his nerves. Maybe he’d been wrong, to doubt coming here. Millie as a first choice made sense as was good at advice, but Conrad didn’t think he would have gotten the same wash of comfort upon seeing her. 

Only when Christopher tilted his head curiously at Conrad did he move, shuffling across the room to clamber onto the bed and sit on his now chilly feet. Christopher gazed at him in an uncharacteristically thoughtful way. Then he asked, “What’s on your mind, Grant?”

Taking a deep breath, Conrad directed his own gaze down at his lap. He didn’t think he could manage to keep eye contact while talking about this. “Can I… tell you about something?” It was vague, but a part of him wanted to know he had Christopher’s permission before he started unloading the mess of thoughts he’d been having. 

“You’re free to tell me anything,” Christopher said, grinning. Conrad supposed he wanted to look encouraging, which Conrad appreciated. “If you’re willing to share, I’m willing to listen.”

That was permission enough. Conrad nodded and took another deep breath. Where should he even begin? There wasn’t necessarily a beginning, and he had just as many questions as he did thoughts. “Do you think it’s… bad…” He paused, bit his lip, and tried to figure out the words. “... To… think ill of your family?” 

Christopher’s eyes widened considerably, as if this was not the direction he’d expected Conrad to take. Which made Conrad feel guilty. But Christopher recovered quickly and shook his head. “Not at all. Being blood-related to someone doesn’t make them a good person. Not even if they brought you into the world.” 

Conrad didn’t miss the slight venom in that statement. He was somewhat awed by the thought that Christopher might understand how he felt, or, karma allow, have similar experiences. He again felt guilty, for vaguely wanting Christopher to have similarly bad family relations. He shouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Do you?” Christopher asked when Conrad didn’t go on. 

Conrad continued to stare at his lap. He nodded. “I don’t really want to,” he said quietly, gripping the hems of his sleeves. “I keep wondering if I’m just looking at things wrong, or maybe I’m being unfair or something.”

Christopher made a face. “I think you should trust your experiences. But, out of curiosity, did something happen that got you thinking about this?”

“That’s…” Conrad shrank a little. He hadn’t realized how keen Christopher had been. Was it obvious? Or had he paid extra attention to Conrad? Shaking his head, Conrad explained, “At dinner, there was… I don’t remember the specifics, but someone brought up exploitation. And it reminded me of…” He trailed off and sighed. “... It reminded me of the first time I stood up for myself. When I first learned that I could…” He blushed faintly. “Er, that I could try to get something from my family for the work I did. I just remember shouting,  _ you are exploiting me _ . Granted, this was in order to get my uncle to give me a bicycle, but…” Cringing, his shoulders slumped. This was more difficult to explain than he anticipated. 

“Your family exploited you?” Christopher said. Conrad was so surprised by the seriousness of his tone that he actually looked up. There was none of the usual humor in Christopher’s countenance. He looked… angry. On Conrad’s behalf? Conrad’s blush brightened. 

He opened his mouth to defend them, but then realized that’s what he was going to do and shut it, frustrated that his instinct was still to downplay the situation. With another sigh, he nodded. “I guess so, yeah. Though I don’t know if they really saw it that way. I think they just… thought that’s what I owed them.”

There was a glint of something in Christopher’s eyes as he shifted and brought his knees up to fold his elbows on them and then rested his chin on his arms, watching Conrad. “What’d they make you do?”

Conrad recalled the details more vividly than he would have liked. “When I was younger, I was mostly just expected to help out in the bookshop. My father died when I was a baby, so it was just my mum, Anthea, my uncle, and me. Anthea was the one they relied on for everything, at first. Then, when she’d had enough, she went away to university and they turned to me instead. I had to cook and clean and do laundry, that sort of thing.”

“Anthea…” Christopher thought about the name for a while, and Conrad supposed it was because he’d forgotten it. “That’s your older sister, right? And she just up and left you on your own in that kind of environment?” 

“She didn’t do it to hurt me,” Conrad said hastily. If there was one thing he didn’t hold against anyone, it was Anthea’s decision to leave. “She really was just fed up with how Mum and Uncle Alfred treated her. She just wanted to be her own person, and the only way she could do that was by leaving it all behind.”

Christopher frowned and seemed less than satisfied by this. “Be that as it may… At an age to attend university, I would think she’d have had the wits to realize that abandoning a child in an abusive situation was hardly a smart thing to do.”

“She…” Conrad bit his lip. He wanted to defend her. His sister was a good person, who’d always done her best to help him and take care of him where their mother didn’t. But, maybe good people still did bad things. The least she could have done before leaving was tell Conrad what was going on. “Maybe it wasn’t smart. I don’t know. I don’t blame her. I wanted to do the same thing after only a year, and she’d put up with that treatment ever since I was born.”

Christopher pursed his lips. He still didn’t look satisfied, but he could tell Conrad wouldn’t budge there. He shrugged and gestured vaguely with one hand. “So your mum, then. She neglected you, I take it.”

His blunt statement made Conrad swallow thickly. Hearing someone else say it made him feel dirty, like he was the one to blame for it, even though he knew that wasn’t at all Christopher’s intention. “... Yes,” he said in a small voice. “As far back as I can remember, the only one who raised me and took care of me was Anthea. Mum, she…” Brows furrowed, he tried to think how to describe her. “You could say she was dysfunctional. I think if she didn’t have someone else to look after her, she might actually have just keeled over one day because she wasn’t eating or something.” Christopher raised a brow. “I can’t really understand why she had kids when she didn’t seem to like either of us. She was more than ready to disown Anthea after she left, and she did the same to me when Uncle Alfred sent me to Stallery.”

“Wretched woman,” Christopher muttered with a rancor that caught Conrad off guard. It hurt to hear his mother insulted, but this time he didn’t have the heart to defend her. “Treating her own children like slaves, and for what, her own sense of entitled superiority? Despicable.” With a roll of his eyes, he added, “She’s like that awful fake Countess.”

Conrad laughed bitterly. “You’re not wrong,” he said. He remembered how his mother had behaved toward the Countess, still acting so superior when she was really no better. Two selfish women who only thought of themselves.

After a moment, Christopher’s expression darkened. “But that uncle of yours.”

Thinking about him still made Conrad’s stomach flip with discomfort. He still vividly recalled the scene at the bookshop when the Walker came and carried Uncle Alfred away. It sent a shiver down his spine. “... He wasn’t a good person,” Conrad said. That was definitely an understatement. “I don’t know when he got it into his head to use me to get at my uncle Amos. He sprang the bad fate story very convincingly, brought it up one bit at a time when I was younger.” He thought of the terror spells, the bad luck spells, the way he drilled it in until Conrad had no choice but to do what he wanted. Conrad shuddered. “If I didn’t meet you at Stallery, I’d probably be dead right now.”

“Utterly reprehensible,” Christopher muttered fiercely, shaking his head so violently that a curl bounced loose from his slicked back hair. “Not even my own terrible uncle can compare. At least that arse didn’t stick a multitude of death spells on me and send me up to a horrible job in order to kill someone he wanted dead.”

Conrad’s eyes went round with surprise. “Your own-?” His brain decided to skip over the  _ multitude of death spells  _ part, as it made him very queasy. “You had a bad uncle, too?”

Christopher laughed then, a short boyish chortle that made Conrad blush again. “Oh yes, and neglectful parents, as well. It seems we have more in common than I realized.” He adjusted his position and crossed his legs, giving Conrad a wry smile. “When I was younger, Uncle Ralph found out I could travel to other worlds. Naïve child that I was, he quickly realized that if he gave me the attention my parents weren’t, I would do whatever he wanted. He manipulated me into helping smuggle illegal magic supplies for his notorious smuggling group.” Conrad’s eyes went rounder still. “Of course, when I found out that’s what had happened, I turned around and helped capture him. He’s still rotting in prison somewhere. Good riddance.”

It felt strange, to bond over such awful experiences. But Conrad found himself almost elated to know that Christopher had been similarly exploited. What sort of person had Christopher’s uncle been? Had he been as cunning as Uncle Alfred? “What is it with awful uncles,” Conrad muttered.

“Who knows,” Christopher laughed again. “Though,” he hesitated and narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. “I suppose I do owe your uncle at least a small thanks. If it weren’t for his abhorrent scheme, I wouldn’t have met you, and I really am glad I did.” That brought a brighter blush to Conrad’s cheeks. He thought he could even feel his ears glowing red. “But if that Walker hadn’t taken him, I probably would have killed him myself for what he did to you.”

The warm feeling in Conrad’s chest: fluttering, thumping, shaking, perhaps from anxiety, or maybe from excitement, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t used to having someone else stand up for him. It was wondrously pleasant, even if the talk of potential murder was a little unsettling. “I’m glad we met, too,” he said after taking a bit to recover. “You and Millie are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

“You sure you won’t regret saying that?” Christopher’s smug smirk returned, and Conrad wondered if it was possible for him to blush more brightly, because he certainly felt he had. “I might let it go to my head.”

“It’s fine. This time, at least,” he mumbled, and looked down at his lap. 

Finally, the fog of discomfort was starting to fade. It wouldn’t go away completely, probably not for some time, but Christopher’s solidarity went a long way toward helping him accept the circumstances. Conrad’s mother had been a selfish person who neglected her children and treated them like objects instead of people. His sister, despite her goodness, had done him a disservice by abandoning him to be exploited without so much as a warning. And his uncle… well, there were many things Conrad could say about him and none of them quite conveyed how much he’d come to hate the man. There was Uncle Amos, too, but, like Christopher’s uncle, he was rotting in prison somewhere, and that was fine with Conrad.

A thought struck Conrad. He frowned and haltingly asked, “Do I… still have to… You know… Er… See my mum, when I go back?”

“Heavens no!” Christopher barked a laugh. “I never see my parents nowadays. I write to them maybe once a year, but that’s it.”

If Conrad thought of it that way, it sounded somewhat doable. She may have been his mother, but that didn’t mean he had to devote any courtesy toward her. He remembered how she’d thrown all of his things away when he’d been at Stallery and rather thought he’d be happy never to see her again. Perhaps he would change his mind over time, but for now, he was content to think that he wouldn’t want to see her anyway.

“You know,” Christopher said at length, “family doesn’t have to be about blood ties. You can make your own family. Like me and Millie!” There was a hint of pride in his voice as he clarified, “We decided we’re family, since she hasn’t got any relatives or anything.” Then something seemed to occur to him, and he added, “You can be a part of our family, too, if you’d like.”

That offer made Conrad’s whole body shudder with delight. His gaze shot to Christopher and he stared, eyes sparkling, while Christopher blushed faintly. “Really? You’d let me?” 

Scrunching up his face, Christopher reached his long arms out and grabbed Conrad. Conrad let out a small yelp as he was tugged into a hug, and Christopher settled his chin on top of Conrad’s head. “Absolutely,” Christopher said with no trace of doubt. “You basically already are, if it really counts.”

Conrad was ecstatic. Everything felt warm, and he fixated on how nice it was to have Christopher’s arms around him. Christopher was warm. And he smelled good, too. Conrad let his eyes slip closed and savored this. It was much better than his old idea of family. He felt like he belonged. He felt cared about. And that was definitely more of what family was supposed to be, in his opinion.

He didn’t know how to express his gratitude, so he instead said, “I don’t remember how to get back to my room from here.” Christopher laughed, a pleasant rumble against Conrad’s chest. 

“Then stay,” Christopher said. He sounded like he was grinning. “You can sleep in my bed. If you’re not opposed, that is.” Conrad wasn’t, but he didn’t know how to express that either, so he settled for shifting so that he could hug Christopher. He wrapped his arms and legs around Christopher’s waist, and buried his face in Christopher’s neck. Christopher laughed again, and the sound was wonderful. “I’ll take that as an affirmative,” Christopher said.

Christopher waved one hand, which caused the lights to turn out. Then he carefully maneuvered the pair of them under the blankets of his bed, lying so that Conrad was curled up against him. This position and the close proximity were enough to make Conrad feel positively giddy. There was no more room for depressing or anxious thoughts - all he could think now was that Christopher smelled amazing and was perfectly warm. And his bed was quite comfortable, but that also might have been because Conrad’s brain had caught up with how tired he was. Before he got too sleepy, he thought to mumble, “Thanks, Christopher.”

Christopher rumbled a chuckle. “My pleasure.” He paused, then said, “Oh, and Grant, don’t forget that what happened to you wasn’t your fault. You deserve better. Even if you don’t think you do.”

Conrad was a little too tired to fully comprehend what Christopher meant, but he appreciated it anyway. He’d give the sentiment due consideration when he wasn’t about to pass out. He might even believe it.

It wasn’t long before Conrad fell into a comfortable sleep, thinking about his new family.


End file.
